


kiss me my darling, for luck

by philthestone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, heck yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 21:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2204193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philthestone/pseuds/philthestone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Honestly," said Leia, raising an eyebrow over the crinkled Daily Prophet, "do you lot talk about <em>anything</em> other than Quidditch?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	kiss me my darling, for luck

**Author's Note:**

> Let it be known that I will take literally any fandom and write a Harry Potter AU about it.  
> Reviews are Han and Leia making out in the broom shed on the quidditch pitch

“So, Quidditch today.”

She turned a page of the Prophet propped up against the orange juice pitcher in front of her. “Mmm.”

The boy in front of her leaned forward and propped up his elbows on the table. His scarlet robes stood out in stark contrast against the dark wood of the table’s surface, and his hands, which were wrapped in athletic tape in preparation for the upcoming match, rested close to her own, a fact of which she was uncomfortably aware.

“Are you at least coming out to watch?”

She frowned. “A house full of muggles in Manchester was raided yesterday. They say they think Vader’s behind it.”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Have I ever missed a game?” she asked, monotone, not taking her eyes from the paper.

“Well, no,” he allowed, tapping his fingers against the table. “Except for that one time in fourth year when you got hexed by that Slytherin bastard. And I’ve already told you what I think about that whole Vader business –”

“Headmaster Palpatine may be an old creep, but he’s not a mass murderer.”

“Professor Mothma and Kenobi and the other teachers all hate him, Leia. And Tarkin’s still a right bastard, you know that.”

 _“That_ , I will allow. But we can’t accuse the headmaster of something this big without significant proof.”

“Whatever. You still didn’t answer my question.”

“ _What_ question?”

“You haven’t told me who you’re rooting for this game.”

“Is _that_ what this is all about?” She looked up and raised an eyebrow, hand still poised as to flip the next page of the newspaper  
in front of her. 

His hazel eyes sparkled innocently, and he mirrored her raised eyebrow.

She sighed.

“It’s Quidditch. It’s not life-or-death.”

“Actually,” came a new voice, as a cheerful Wes Janson sat himself down at the Gryffindor table beside Han with Hobbie Klivian in tow. “Sometimes it is.”

“That’s not what I meant, Wes,” said Leia wearily, as Han snorted into his pumpkin juice.

“This one time,” Hobbie added, “some bloke in the world cup nearly split his skull in half –”

“Yes, _alright_ ,” said Leia, turning back to her newspaper. “I’m hoping that you lot will be among today’s causalities.”

“Ah, you don’t mean that, your Highnessness,” said Han, reaching across the table to help himself to the plate of toast.

“Just because my mother was a pureblood doesn’t mean I’m royalty, Han.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Ignorant muggleborn here, remember?”

“Han.”

Wes sniggered through his mouthful of scrambled eggs, and Leia looked away from the Prophet in time to catch Luke’s eye across the room where he was sitting with Wedge Antilles. Their canary-yellow robes were cheerful and bright, and she returned the grin Luke shot her enthusiastically.

“Oi, pass me the sausages, would you?”

“Why yes, Captain Solo, I can –”

“Screw _off, Derek_.”

“Call me again by my real name and I’ll hex your balls off, Solo.”

She turned back to her housemates pursed her lips.

“You three don’t seem very nervous.”

“’S ‘cause we’re gonna w’n,” Han told her through a mouth full of sausage. She wrinkled her nose.

“Sometimes I’m surprised you can get your broom of the ground with a head that big.”

“It’s not arrogance, Princess, it’s confidence,” he countered, swallowing his sausage. “And besides –” he grinned mischievously “– you like it.”

She sighed through her nose and turned back to her paper. “I don’t know where you get your delusions, flyboy. And Luke’s a  
brilliant seeker, so I’d watch out if I were you.”

“Sure, but the rest of the team are – well, _Hufflepuffs_.”

 _“Han,”_ said Leia, shooting him a stern look. “They’re all good players. And besides, Luke’s Hufflepuff too.”

“Yeah, but he’s cool,” supplied Wes from Han’s left. Hobbie snorted ungracefully.

“Agreed,” said Han. He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Shit, we’ve gotta go. You ready, Klivian?”

“Ready as ever, Cap. You coming to the match, Leia?”

She sighed. “Again, have I _ever_ missed a Quidditch match?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Guess not. See you, then.”

“You should try out for the team,” Han told her cheerfully as they gathered up their gear from the table and Hobbie disappeared in the crowd to find the rest of their teammates, Wes trailing behind and muttering something about needed to find Professor Mothma and sort out the commentary.

“Um, no.”

“What? You’re a damn good flyer.”

“Yes, but I’d prefer not to risk my neck over a leather ball, thank you very much. Watching you lot is quite enough for me.”

He grinned at her. “Whatever you say.” 

She rose from the table to walk with him towards the Entrance Hall, making their way through the masses of yellow and red. She could see Luke heading towards the pitch through the front gates, laughing with his teammates.

“I’d better go, Leia. See you after the match?”

“Most likely,” she replied, looking up at her friend. “Why?”

“Well, it’ll be a helluva after-party,” said Han, grinning. She pressed her lips together and looked at him; something about the crookedness of his grin threw her off.

“You _are_ nervous, aren’t you?” she realized, a slow smile creeping up her lips. “You’re worried you’ll mess up and Luke’ll catch the snitch too soon for you to have an advantage in goals.”

He scowled, but there was a slight flush creeping up his neck. “No, I’m _not_ I –”

“Yes you are!” She was giggling now, even though she knew and he knew (and they both knew) that the nervousness had very little to do with goals and all to do with personal loyalties and wasn’t this awkward when the other bloke was practically your brother. “Go on, _Captain_ Solo, admit it; you’re scared you won’t have time to amaze us all with your so-called goal-scoring abilities –”

“Now wait just a second, your worship –”

On impulse, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

“Good luck, you idiot.” She could feel the heat rising to her face. She pulled out her Gryffindor scarf from her school bag and wound it around her neck, not noticing how Han was valiantly fighting a huge smile.“You do have your moments, if not many of them.” She paused, and grinned. “And of _course_ I’m rooting for Gryffindor. Just because Luke’s my friend too doesn’t mean I’d abandon my own house.” 

And she turned and walked through the large double doors, leaving him grinning foolishly in her wake.

Rooting for Gryffindor, indeed.


End file.
